
A 



Class. 
Book. 



()op}TightiN"_ 



CDRlRIGHT DEPOSm 



(Mrs. Lionel Marks) 



HARVEST MOON. 

THE WOLF OF GUBBIO: A Comedy in 
Three Acts. 

THE SINGING MAN. 

THE PIPER. 

THE BOOK OF THE LITTLE PAST. Illus- 
trated in color. 

THE SINGING LEAVES. 
MARLOWE : A DRAMA. 
FORTUNE AND MEN'S EYES. 
OLD GREEK FOLK STORIES. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
Boston and New York 



HARVEST MOON 



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Harvest 



Moon 




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By Josephine Preston Peabody [5 

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BOSTON y NEtf rORK 
Houghton Mifflin Company 

1916 • |g 

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COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY JOSEPHINE PEABODV MARKS 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published November igib 



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NOV 23 1916 


©GI.A4457SL; 


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NOTE 

The author is indebted to the editors of 
Scribners Magazine y The Book of ^ 'The Sans-Foyer^ 
The Texas Review, The Poetry RevieWy The 
Woman's Journal, The Boston Evening Tran- 
script, and The New Tork Evening Post-, for 
permission to reprint certain of the poems in- 
cluded in this book. 



CONTENTS 

Who goes there ? xiii 

Harvest Moon i 

Cradle Song 3 

PiETA 7 

Dominion 12 

Full Circle 13 

Military Necessity 16 

Dead Chimes . 17 

Men Have Wings at Last . . . .21 

To A Dog 27 

Heritage 29 

Two Songs of a Year 31 

I. Children's Kisses 33 

n. The Sans-Foyer 36 

Sea-Dirge .37 

Seed-Time 38 

June Rose ' • 39 

All Souls' Eve 40 



viii Contents 

Three Parting Songs 43 

I. Star-Gazer 45 

II. The Glories to the Dying ... 46 

III. The Moment 48 

The Neighbors 51 

Woman- Vigil 57 

Hunter's Moon 69 

I. Ballad of the Bow-String . . • 71 

II. The Hunted 77 

III. Outcast 79 

Sea-Thirst 81 

Harvest Moon: 1916 84 

Offering 86 



HARVEST MOON 



TO 
THE WOMEN OF EUROPE 



Halt ! — Who goes there ? 
A Woman. 

Whence ? And where ? 

Soldier, I cannot tell. I only know 
This dark is still the world. 

And I must dare. 
Who bade you try ? 
My man-child here, his cry. 

1 cannot let you by; 



Woman, I stand on guard. 



^ 



And I. 



HARVEST MOON 

OVER the twilight field, 
Over the glimmering field 
And bleeding furrows, with their sodden 
yield 
Of sheaves that still did writhe. 
After the scythe ; 

The teeming field, and darkly overstrewn 
With all the garnered fullness of that noon, — 
Two looked upon each other. 
One was a Woman, men had called their mother: 
And one the Harvest Moon. 

And one the Harvest Moon 

Who stood, who gazed 

On those unquiet gleanings, where they bled ; 

Till the lone Woman said : 

* But we were crazed . ." . 

We should laugh now together, I and you ; 

We two. 

You, for your ever dreaming it was worth ' 

A star's while to look on, and light the earth; 

And I, for ever telling to my mind 



2 Harvest Moon 

Glory it was and gladness, to give birth 

To human kind. 

I gave the breath, — and thought it not amiss, 

I gave the breath to men. 

For men to slay again ; 

Lording it over anguish, all to give 

My life, that men might live. 

For this. 

*You will be laughing now, remembering 
We called you once Dead World, and barren 

thing. 
Yes, so we called you then. 
You, far more wise 
Than to give life to men.' 

Over the field that there 

Gave back the skies 

A scattered upward stare 

From sightless eyes. 

The furrowed field that lay 

Striving awhile, through many a bleeding dune 

Of throbbing clay, — but dumb and quiet soon. 

She looked ; and went her way. 

The Harvest Moon. 



L 



CRADLE SONG 



ORD GABRIEL, wilt thou not rejoice 
When at last a little boy's 
Cheek lies heavy as a rose. 
And his eyelids close ? 



Gabriel, when that hush may be. 
This sweet hand all heedfully 
I '11 undo, for thee alone. 
From his mother's own. 

Then the far blue highways paven 
With the burning stars of heaven, 
He shall gladden with the sweet 
Hasting of his feet : — 

Feet so brightly bare and cool. 
Leaping, as from pool to pool ; 
From a little laughing boy 
Splashing rainbow joy ! 

Gabriel, wilt thou understand 
How to keep his hovering hand ? — 
Never shut, as in a bond. 
From the bright beyond? — 



Harvest Moon 

Nay, but though it cling and close 
Tightly as a climbing rose, 
Clasp it only so, — aright, 
Lest his heart take fright. 

{Dormiy dormiy tu. 

'The dusk is hung with blue.) 

II 

Lord Michael, wilt not thou rejoice 
When at last a little boy's 

Heart, a shut-in murmuring bee. 
Turns him unto thee ? 

Wilt thou heed thine armor well, — 
To take his hand from Gabriel, 
So his radiant cup of dream 
May not spill a gleam ? 

He will take thy heart in thrall. 
Telling o'er thy breastplate, all 
Colors, in his bubbling speech. 
With his hand to each. 

{Dormiy dormi tu. 
Sapphire is the blue ; 



Cradle Song 

Pearl and beryly they are calledy 
Chrysoprase and emerald^ 
Sard and amethyst. 

Numbered so^ and kissed.) 

Ah, but find some angel-word 
For thy sharp, subduing sword ! 

Yea, Lord Michael, make no doubt 
He will find it out: 

(Dormiy dor mi tu /) 
His eyes will look at you, 

III 

Last, a little morning space, 
Lead him to that leafy place 
Where Our Lady sits awake, 
For all mothers' sake. 

Bosomed with the Blessed One, 
He shall mind her of her Son, 
Once so folded from all harms. 
In her, shrining arms. 

{In her veil of blue, 
Dormiy dormi tu.) 



Harvest Moon 



So; — and fare thee well. 

Softly, — Gabriel . . . 
When the first faint red shall come, 
Bid the Day-star lead him home, 

For the bright world's sake, — 

To my heart, awake. 



PI ETA' 

I 

YOU men of Antwerp, who have Hfted 
down 
Once more from His high cross, the 
Crucified, 
And from the hands and feet, and pierced side 
Wiped your own blood, above that anguished 

crown ; 
There by the belfry-tower that glorified 
The upward gaze of Flanders and Brabant, 
Men of Namur, Liege, unconquered Ghent, 
And leafy fair Ardennes ; 
Is it with you again, 
As with those far Judaean brother-men 
Who saw their glory, and the living Word 
Of all men's longing slain and sepulchered ? 
His body left, alone. 
Unto His own ; 
And their despair, wherewith to seal the stone. 



' Read at a Mass Meeting in Boston for the Belgian Relief 
Fund December i, 19 14. 



8 Harvest Moon 

And are your words the broken words they 

had 
As once they walked together and were sad. 
Along the smouldering, desolated ways? 
^ Now is it many days 
Since all these things were done. 
Before the sun. 

And He, the Very God that gave us breathy 
Is scourged and put to death.* 

Brothers, it is not true. 

By all new-born compassion, now we know 

The Lord is risen indeed ; and walks with you. 

Yes, though your eyes are holden; — yes. 

Through all the wilderness ; 

Through the black desert there, 

The waste of rankling embers, where they go 

As snowflakes on the air, — 

Unknowing whither and unknowing whence, — 

The wingless Innocents, 

The little children. — And, of all that mourn! 

Mothers of trampled sons. 

Perishing, helpless ones, 

The women, women, broken, bruised and 

spent, — 
Dragging a shattered flight to banishment, 



P I E T A 9 

Faint with the weight of woe in men unborn ! 
Homeless, and guiltless ; west and west and 

north. 
Whither the lords of famine drive them forth. 
Along the awful footprints trodden red ; — 
But shepherded 
Of Him who had not where to lay His head. 

Heroes, He walks with these. 

The refugees. 

Heroes, He walks with you 

Your widening realm made new. 

Your kingdom vaster now, than ever then ; 

Your world-wide empire in the souls of men. 

II 

And you. New World ? 
Now that the lightning-blast 
Of tangled hates has left your heart aghast, 
What is your answering deed 
To men at need ? 

The Eyes, that once their startled eyes could see 
Through the blue morning mist of Galilee, 
Look on you now, with their one * Lovest thou 
me? * 



lo Harvest Moon 

And with the cry of light that follows death, 
' Thou knowest that we love 'Thee ! ' — sobs all 

breath. 
And * Feed my lambs J He saith. 
Ah, by that word to keep, 
By all the sharpness of their more than death, 
' With nothing left them but the eyes, to weep,' 
Shall we not feed His sheep ? 

HI 

Now, with the cold, draws near the holy time. 

When there shall sound no chime, 

From towers that look alone 

On glories overthrown. 

There shall no tongue of bell 

Proclaim Emmanuel, 

To mock with homage thus, 

Our God-with-us ! 

Far on the Syrian plains, the shepherds there 

May pipe to moon-lit air 

White tidings of the Hope of all men's dream, — 

Men yet blaspheme. 

O New World, do not mock 

The desolation of this perisht flock, 



P I E T A II 

With chime or festival ; 

While shames and sorrows call 

Above the wind, the scourging, bitter wind, 

For those who sinned, — 

In that they held the unconquerable gate 

Of human hope, against the hordes of hate ! 

Look on that Mother-Country, face to face; 

Stricken that men might live. 

And to her ruin of a manger-place, 

Gather, and rally; — give! 

O Fair-of-fortune, Hope and Humbleness, 

Gather and garner ! — Bless 

Your lowly offerings 

Of precious things. 

Open your treasure forth, for her ; 
Gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. 



DOMINION 

[To the Invaders^ 

LORDS of disaster, waiting still to reap 
New glory for the dooms that you have 
sown, 
New glory for the ruin, stone on stone, 
And bleeding tribute wrung from them that 

weep; 
Great is your faith, above the watch you keep, 
Till there shall spring some vintage of your own 
Out of the tilth of blood and tears alone, 
And trodden breath still crying from the deep! 

Yet, lords of famine, one gift late-discerned. 
But still a triumph and a dwelling place, — 
One master-work of might is surely done. 
Only your chosen way could so have earned 
The men and brothers of the Belgian race. 
Their everlasting stronghold in the Sun. 



[ 12] 



FULL CIRCLE 

\y^jbe Bandage-Makers^ 

NOW no longer is it lace 
In the golden market-place. 
Nor a little twilight street 
Where the day-long neighbors meet : 
To and fro, and face to face. 
Talk and shuttle, with the lace. 

— Long ago, and gray and past! 
But they need us now at last; 
They are wanting us again, 
All our men. 

Now it is no longer nets, 
Brown above the morning sea; — ■ 
Sea no one of us forgets, 
Heeding never such as we ! 
Now no sails to make or mend; 
Sails, sails, — ships to send 
Out forever, to the end ! 

Other work and other web 
Given to our hands again ; 



14 Harvest Moon 

For the flood. 

For the ebb, 

(Turn and fold, and fold again,) 

Drop by drop, of shining blood. 

Life-blood that we gave our men. 

Well for me, well for you. 
Work is ever yet to do ; 
Web to wear the daylight through ; 
Work to do ! 

From his first of swaddling-bands. 
In our hands. — 
Now he hears, and understands. 
All our spinning song complete. 
So he have the winding-sheet. 

Better so: the one refrain, — 
Back to us, to us again ! 
All our master-building thus, 
Back to us. 

This to wind, and this to bathe; 
Here, to lull with swathe on swathe; 
So to staunch, and so to bind 
Darkness softly on our blind. — 



Full Circle 15 

Hide away the ruin, frayed 
From the bodies that we made : 
Till that all things be fulfilled ; 
All our treasure spent and spilled ; 
With the darkening of the sun, 
When the last of light is gone. 

Kyrie eleison, 

Christe eletson I 



MILITARY NECESSITY 

ISCx-iRIOT, never more thy stricken name 
Sound now the bHnded deeps of infamy ; 
Nor thy poor hurried, faltering sin shall be 
The world-worn symbol of an utmost shame. 
A thousand years, two thousand, still the same 
Red gleam of torches, ever there to see 
On the gray darkness of Gethsemane ! — 
Now, newer lights outflare their simple flame. 

For you, half-hearted, must limp back to say — 
With but one death of Christ to grieve about ! — 
^ Lo, I have sinned, in that I did betray . . . 
Innocent blood.' 

Now, — weak with no such doubt. 
Men write : * No hate was here. Our chosen way 
They chose to bar. — 

And they are blotted out.' 



[.6] 



DEAD CHIMES 

WHERE the night smouldered. 
Heaped, stone on stone, 
They watched together, 
Gods overthrown. 
In the black desert, 
"With smoke for a shroud, 
The wounds of their dumbness 
Throbbed out, aloud. 

One with the throbbing 
Of the wounds of Time, 
They spoke together; 
They that once did chime. 

*I was that strong one. 
That joyous lord 
Over these valleys. 
Where morning poured! 
To our high places 
My voice over-fills, 
There lifted their faces. 
All the young hills ! 



i8 Harvest Moon 

* I was their tidings ; 
I, their Great Bell, 

Gave them God's greeting, 
Through Gabriel.' 

'At the bidding of Mary, 
With my sweet sound, 
I blessed the rapt meadows 
Kneeling around ; — 
Now battle-ground, 
Now battle-ground ! 

'With the voice of my pity 
Poured forth as wine, 
I folded my City : 
It was all mine, 

— Mine! 

* Here in my bosom, ■ 
Dove and bright dove 
Nested them, under 
The word of my love.' 

* And they and their makings the mighty men and 

skilled ; 
Men to dream dreams ^ and arise then^ and build; — 



Dead Chimes 19 

Are they all parted ? As the sunk sands ? 
And the mothering women, who spun with their 
hands ? 

Women wise-hearted? 

Women^ that knew 
Well to weave twinings ; the scarlet of hue. 

Purple, and silver and blue ? 

* They and their building ; and their precious 

things : 
Carven and glorious, with multitude of wings! 
Woods sweet of savor, and golden overlaid; 
Windows as day shine for wonder, that they made. 

'These to be plunder. 

And a shattered spoil: — 
Incense of their burning, and sanctuary oil. 

Treasure of their toilV — 

* Strong men at length, 
That swung us to our towers. 
Glad men of strength. 
They were all ours. 

Ours ! . . . 
Then, nave and spire, 
Joy climbed and came. 
Then, choir on choir, 



20 Harvest Moon 

Song burst as fire, 
Song poured as flame ! * 

'And I, that called. 
Full of God's breath, 
Words that He saith. 
Shall I be thralled 
To iron death? ' 

* I that made glad 
The hills round about, — 
Shall the tongue of my glory 
Now be plucked out ? — 
That said All Hail I 
In the one Name, 
Be so betrayed? — 
Molten, and made 
Some tool of shame ? ' 

Where the night smouldered. 
Heaped stone on stone. 
These spoke together. 
Exiles, alone: 
Throbbing, even so; 
They that one time. 
Long while ago, 

. . . Did chime. 



MEN HAVE WINGS AT LAST 

Si^he Air-Raid^ 

WOLF, Wolf, — stay-at-home. 
Prowler, — scout, 
Clanless and castaways, 
And ailing with the drought ! 
Out from your hidings, hither to the call ; 
Lift up your eyes to the high wind-fall ; 
Lift up your eyes from the stagnant spring; 
Overhead, overhead ! The dragon thing, 
What should it bring? — 
Poising on the wing?' 

* Wolf, wolf, old one, — I saw it, even I ; 
Yesterday, yesterday, the Thing came by. — 
Prowling at the outpost of the last lean wood. 
By the gray waste ashes where the minster stood, 
And out through the cloister, where the belfry 

fronts 
The market-place, and the town was, once. 
High, high, above the bright wide square. 
And the folk all flocking together, unaware, 
The thing with the wings came there. 



22 Harvest Moon 

Brother Vulture saw it, 

And called me as it passed : 
" Look and see, look and see^ 
Men have wings at last I " 

* By the eyeless belfry I saw it, overhead. 
Poise like a hawk, — like a storm unshed. 
Near the huddled doves there, from a shattered 

cote, 
I watched too. — And it smote. 

'Not a threat of thunder, not an armed man, 
Where the fury struck, and the fleet fire ran. 
But girl-child, man-child, mothers and their 

young, 
New-born of woman with milk upon its tongue ; 
Nursling where it clung ! 

* Not a talon reached they, then, the lords of 

prey ! 
But left the red dregs there, rent and cast 

away ; — 
Fled from the spoil there, scattered things 
accurst ! 

It was not for hunger ; 
It was not for thirst. 



Men have Wings 23 

* From the eyeless belfry. 
Brother Vulture laughed : 

" 'This is all we have to see 
For his master-craft ? 
Old ones^ — lean ones. 
Never now to fast. 
Men have wings at last / " ' 

'Brought they any tiding for us from the Sun?' 

* No, my chief, not one.* 
'Left they not a road-mark, how the way was 
won ? ' ' . 

' No, my chief, none. 

'But girl-child, man-child, creature yet unborn, 
Doe and fawn together so, weltering and torn, 
New-born of woman where the flag-stones bled: 
(Better can the vultures do, for the shamed 

dead !) 
Road-dust, sobbing, where the lightnings burst! 
It was not for hunger; 
It was not for thirst.' 

'Brought they not some token that the stars 
look on?' 

' No, my chief, none.* 



24 Harvest Moon 

* Never yet a message from the highway over- 

head ? ' 

'Brother, I have said.' 

* Old years, gray years, years of growing things, 
We have toiled and kept the watch with our 

wonderings. 
But to see what thing should be, when that men 
had wings. 

* Sea-mark, sea-wall, ships above the tide ; 
Mine and mole-way under-earth, to have its 

hidden pride. 
Not enough ; not enough ; more and more 
beside. 

* Bridle for our proud of mane ; then the triple 

yoke ; 

Ox-goad and lash again, and bonded fellow- 
folk ! 

Not enough; not enough; — for his master 
stroke. 

* Thunder trapped and muttering and led away 

for thrall, 



Men have Wings 25 

Lightnings leashed together then, at his beck 

and call ; 
Not enough ; not enough, for his wherewithal ! 



* He must look with evil eye 
On the spaces of the sky ; 
He must scheme and try ! 
While all we, with dread and awe. 
Sheathing and unsheathing claw. 
Watch apart, and prophesy 

That we never saw. — 

* Wings, to seek his more-and-more. 

Where we knew us blind ; 
Wings, to make him conqueror 

With his master-mind; 
Wings, that he outwatch, outsoar 

Eagle and his kind ! 

* Lo, the dream fulfilled at last ! And the dread 
outgrown. 

Broken, as a bird's heart ; fallen, as a stone. 
What was he, to make afraid? — 
Hating all that he had made, 
Hating all his own! 



26 Harvest Moon 

* Scatter to your strongholds, till the race is run. 
(Doe and fawn together so, soon will it be done.) 
Never now, never now, ship without a mast, 
In the harbor of the sun, do you make fast! 
But the floods shall cleanse again 
Every blackened trail of men, 
Men with wings, at last ! ' 



TO A DOG 

SO, back again ? 
— And is your errand done. 
Unfailing one ? 
How quick the gray world, at your morning 

look. 
Turns wonder-book ! 
Come in, — O guard and guest : 
Come, O you breathless, from a life -long 

quest ! 
Search here my heart ; and if a comfort be, 
Ah, comfort me. 
You eloquent one, you best 
Of all diviners, so to trace 
The weather-gleams upon a face; 
With wordless, querying paw, 
Adventuring the law ! 
You shaggy Loveliness, 
What call was it? — What dream beyond a 

guess, 
Lured you, gray ages back. 
From that lone bivouac 
Of the wild pack ? — 



28 Harvest Moon 

Was it your need or ours ? The calling trail 
Of faith that should not fail ? 
Of hope dim understood? — 
That you should follow our poor humanhood. 
Only because you would 1 
To search and circle, — follow and outstrip, 
Men and their fellowship ; 
And keep your heart no less, 
Your to-and-fro of hope and wistfulness, 
Through all world-weathers and against all 
odds ! 

Can you forgive us, now? — 
Your fallen gods ? 



HERITAGE 

^ND if that men should cease from war^ 
/-§ What surety can there be 

Of hardihood and sovereignty 
And mighty so battled for ? 
Whence shall a master draw his strength 
And splendor^ if so be, at length , 
1'he strong man cease from war?' 

Oh, he might some day light his mind 
With fires that glowed when he lay blind ; 
The watch-fires of all motherkind. — 
The ardors that encompassed him 
While he lay hid, unmade and dim. 
Beleaguered as a bonden thrall, 
With her lone body for a wall. 
And she, his stronghold of a year 
Against the armaments of fear, — 
Her arms his wreathed cherubim. 
Fought with the hosts of hell for him, 
And smiling in the eyes of Death, 
Tore from her heart his gift of breath." 

Tet, * Whence shall be their hardihood^ 
If men forbear to spill mens blood?* 



30 Harvest Moon 

From her uncounted agony- 
Through climbing ages all worn by. 
Could he not learn the way to die, 
Transfigured with some radiant Why ? 
From the same wells of hero-stuff, 
He still might draw duress enough 
To dare and suffer, — be, and build; 
Till some far flaming Dream fulfilled. 
Made the loud song in every vein 
Sing triumph to her, for her pain ; 
Triumph, of one more glorious way 
Than plunder for a beast of prey ; 
Triumph at last, against all odds 
Set up by the indifferent gods ! 

Man-child, — the starveling without help. 
Less able than a tiger's whelp, — 
Housed only, once, in her embrace. 
Weak bud of the destroying race ! 
O fool and blind, and battled for. 
Whose strength is this you spill in war. 
But hers? — Who laughed the stars to scorn. 
When you were born. — 

When you were born. 



TWO SONGS OF A YEAR 
(1914-1915) 



I. CHILDREN'S KISSES 

SO ; it is nightfall then. 
The valley flush 
That beckoned home the way for herds 
and men, 
Is hardly spent. 
Down the bright pathway winds, through veils 

of hush 
And wonderment. 
Unuttered yet, the chime 
That tells of folding-time; 
Hardly the sun has set. 

The trees are sweetly troubled with bright words 
From new-alighted birds; — 
And yet, . . . 
Here, — round my neck, are come to cling and 

twine. 
The arms, the folding arms, close, close and 

fain, 
All mine ! — 
I pleaded to, in vain, 

I reached for, only to their dimpled scorning, 
Down the blue halls of Morning; 



34 Harvest Moon 

Where all things else could lure them on and on, 

Now here, now gone, — 

From bush to bush, from beckoning bough to 

bough, 
With bird-calls of Come Hither! — 

. . . Ah, but now. 
Now it is dusk. — And from his heaven of 

mirth, 
A wilding skylark, sudden dropt to earth 
Along the last low sunbeam yellow-moted, 
Athrob with joy, — 
There pushes here, a little golden Boy, 
Still-gazing with great eyes. 
And wonder-wise. 

All fragrancy, all valor silver-throated. 
My daughterling, my swan, 
My Alison 1 

Closer than homing lambs against the bars 
At folding-time, that crowd, all mother-warm. 
They crowd, — they cling, they wreathe; 
And thick as sparkles of the thronging stars, 
Their kisses swarm. 

O Rose of being, at whose heart I breathe, 
Fold over; hold me fast 



Children's Kisses 35 

In the dark Eden of a blinding kiss. 

And lightning heart's-desire, be still at last! 

Heart can no more, — 

Life can no more, 

Than this. 



II. THE SANS-FOYER 



L 



OVE, that Love cannot share. 

Now turn to air ! 
And fade to ashes, O my daily bread; 

Save only if you may 

So be the stay 

Of the uncomforted. 



Look down, you far-off lights, 

From smoke-veiled heights, — 
If there be dwelling in our wilderness ! 
For Love, the Refugee, 
No stronghold can there be, — 
No shelter more, while these go shelterless. 

Love hath no home beside 

His own two arms spread wide; — 
The only home, among all walls that are; 

So there may come to cling, 

Some yet forlorner thing, 
Feeling its way, along the blackened star! 



[36] 



SEA-DIRGE 

SEA-BIRD, forever wailing through the 
sky, 
Sea-bird, forever searching, now let be. 
Dash thy wild heart against the light, and die, 
For sorrow on the sea. 

Night-wind, that all the weeping years of time, 
Sang a mad song of horror yet to be. 

Now is the hour; let not that wild voice climb 
The steep on steep of flaming prophecy. 
Night-wind, let be. 

Threaten no longer, with that drowning call. 

The children, for their little moment stilled ! 
Now that the moon is turned to blood, and all, 
All doom fulfilled. 



[37 ] 



SEED-TIME 

WOMAN of the field, — by the sunset 
furrow. 
Lone-faring woman, woman at the 
plough, 
What of the harrow ? — there so near their fore- 
heads. 

Can there be harvest, now ? 

*My one Beloved sowed here his body; 

Under the furrows that open so red. 
All that come home now, have we for our chil- 
dren. — 

They will be wanting bread.' 



[38] 



JUNE ROSE 

YOU that put forth, warm and unshud- 
dering 
From the Hve vine, to breathe another 

Spring, 
Answering so the query of the air. 
Red lips that dare! — 
Parted and smiling now, — 
This is the selfsame earth where men did plough 
And plant ; brown earth, and eyeless to foresee 
What men could be. 
Now the earth knows ; 

And the torn fields, furrowed to endless shame. 
And you are there. 
You kiss upon the air. 
Without a tear to shed. 
Over the million dead; 
Nor yet for those 

Outnumbering hearts turned ashes with their 
dead. 

Earth to earth. 

Ashes to ashes, 

Dust to dust. . . . 
Oh, is it all the same then, to a rose? 
That you dare be red ? 



ALL SOULS' EVE' 

MOTHER, my Mother, Mother- 
Country, 
Where is the window with the 
light ? 
Wounded I come; groping I come. 
Over a blackness, and a blight ! ' 

* Hush you J hush you, my darling ; 

^estion no more of the light. 
Morning and evening were the first long day ; 
And now is the midmost night* 

* Mother, my Mother, Mother-Country, 

Why does the red, red ooze 
Brim through my field where the brook did 
run ? 
And the blood on thy heart there, — whose ? * 



' On All Souls* Day, November 2d, in many parts of 
Europe, a portion of bread is left on the cottage table with 
a lighted candle, to welcome home the souls of the dead who 
have died during the year. 



All Souls' Eve 41 

* Hush yoUy hush you^ my way-worn ; 

Heed not to ask me whose. 
Thy breath and mine, and the Earth' Sy are one; 
And one is our life we lose* 

* Mother, my Mother, Mother-Country, 

Yet were the fields in bud. 
And the harvest, when shall it rise again 
Up through the fire and flood ? ' 

* Wonder not, wonder not, darling ; 

Grieve not at fire nor at flood. 
But when did ever a Mother, yet. 
Drink of her children's blood? ' 

* Mother, my Mother, Mother-Country, 

Was it not all to save 
Harvest of bread ? — Harvest of men ? 
And the bright years, wave on wave ? ' 

* Search not, search not, my way-worn ; 

Search neither weald nor wave. 
One is their heavy reaping-time 

'To the Earth, that is one wide grave* 



42 Harvest Moon 

*Ah, but my Mother, — Mother-Country, 

When shall our triumph be ? 
Wounded I am, — blinded I am: 

This, — is it Victory ? ' . . . 



* O Man-child of my longing ! 

Plead with me not ; — let be. 
Sleep on, till day. I will ask our way^ 

Of the stars far offj that see,' 



THREE PARTING SONGS 



G 



STAR-GAZER 

OLDEN earth, 

Now it is time to part, 
To you, the new red wine that over- 
flows 

My dripping heart ! 



Golden friends. 
That starred the long way through. 
This the last breath, — in the last kiss, 
To you. 

Golden star. 
Lean down, lean close a moment, and go by ; 
Since it was you who bade me all the while. 

Live, — sing, and die. 



[ 45 ] 



THE GLORIES TO THE DYING 



E 



YES that widen to the light, 
Dying eyes, fulfilled of Sight ; 



* Heart of ebb-tide, ebbing fast, 
Do you know us at the last ? 

* Do you know us, where we bring 
All our thwarted offering ? — 

* In our bright hands overflowing. 
All the light there was for knowing, 

Garnered to your going ? 

* Longing, longing from the first, 
So to rain upon your thirst! — 

* LifCy and could it shew you this 
Only with the parting kiss ? ' 

• ••••• 

* Calling glories of the Sun, 

All up-gathered in the one: — 



Three Parting Songs 47 

* Ah, and can you see me now, 
Eyes of light ? — Fading brow ? 



* Harken, pitiful and dear ! 
Life it is at last, so near : 
Life and all the lights thereof. — 
Do you know me ? Do you hear? 
I was Love.' 

Tou that take your leave, alone , 
Only now to find your own ! — 
Could Life never tell you this, 
Till the parting kiss ? 



L 



THE MOMENT 

IFE had said no word to me : 
I saw not. But now I see. 



For I heard the trumpet call, 
^ Live, live, — once for all. 
Spend thy golden wherewithal ! * 

O I heard the trumpet sing, 

* Death, death, where is thy sting ? * 

And the volley called to me, 

* Grave, where is thy victory ? ' 

(Ah, but Mother, — close beside. 
Look not as the Crucified, 

With your eyes to ask me so. 

Child, and did you never know?) 

For I heard the trumpet call, 

* Spend thy golden wherewithal! 
Live, — give, — Fight and fall ! ' 
And I flung my all. — 



THE NEIGHBORS 



THE NEIGHBORS 

NOW at the end, neighbor, 
Do you not see ? 
In the gray light of our late awaking. 
How even he 

Who brought this doom to be, 
He too is ours, 
And of our making ? 

We that sat by, neighbor. 

We that were still ; 

That gave our souls to the weaving, the baking; 

Veiling our foreheads 

Under his will ; 

Still singing lullaby over heart-breaking. 

There in the fields 

We ploughed at his need; — 

And the bright-sown field of the stars, we left 

fallow. 
To the small weed 
We gave heavy heed ; 
While the Light pined. 
That was ours to hallow ! — 



52 Harvest Moon 

Praising, — praising, 

His conquering hands; 

And his wrath ; and his spoils, at his coming 

and going ! — 
The strength of his limb. 
As the glory of him ; — 
We, the well-knowing. 

We that knew well 

Of Life, in the giving ; 

Costly to build, neighbor; 

Costly with living. 

He, from a babe. 

Eager for taking 

All of the perilous gifts of our making ; — 

Swift, — skilled, at the breaking! 

Were we not those. 

Woman and mother. 

Who stripped too well 

The thorns from his rose ? 

Who gave our all. 

Even as he chose, — 

Into the widening grasp of his hand ? 

Though he be slayer, at last, of his brother. 

How should he understand? . . . 



The Neighbors 53 

Here, at the end 

Of the light of our forsaking. 

Is not even he. 

Who would be lord. 

With the fire and the sword, 

Still our man-child? — 

Ours, and our making? 

We that obeyed, — 

Woman and wife ! 

We that sat dumb ; 

We that were lowly ! 

While all the breath and the voices of Life, 

All things that are, — 

From stubble to star, — 

Sang, — Holy, holy. 

Holy . . . 



WOMAN-VIGIL 



WOMAN-VIGIL 



YOU that sleep not, Shadow moving at 
midnight. 
To and fro, where the windows glimmer 
and darken. 
To and fro, where you with your ailing treasure, 
Lean down to harken : 

You that sleep not. Shadow behind the case- 
ment. 
Toilful Shadow, gaunt from the cup of sorrow ; 
Humble, ceaseless, shaping late in the midnight. 
Bread of to-morrow ! 

You, wan Shadow, wasting your lighted taper, — 
Light of your eyes, at a stitch-by-stitch adorn- 
ing; 
Starven starlight, paling even as stars do. 

Toward the gray morning: 

You that keep your watch by the countless 
windows, 



58 Harvest Moon 

Waking, working, there where they gleam and 

darken. 
Even you that over the wide world's breathing, 
Lean down and harken : — 

Dark Immortal, — Shadow of mortal woman, 
Why awake, when the sentries sleep, and the 

sages ? 
Towering Shadow, flung on the dark of night- 
time, 

Dark of the ages ? 

{Loud from the tower 
Swung the Bell. 
And the sentry called^ 
'Airs well!' . . . 
'The candle flared 
Before the night. 
The Shadow trimmed the light.) 

II 

What new pride, you of the ceaseless vigil. 
Knocks at your heart? Or what far folly of 

questing 
Stirs you now, between the loom and the 

cradle ? — 

Woman unresting ! 



Woman -V i g i l 59 

What vain-longing, — circle and cry of sea- 
birds, 

Holds your eyes, with the sleepless light beside 
you ? 

All the besieging years, your toil and your 
burden. 

Who hath denied you ? 

Who hath said to you, * Rest ; yea, rest for your 
portion ' ? 

Who forbade your eyes their watch or their 
weeping? 

Who withheld the helpless years of the man- 
child 

From your sole keeping? 

Mind of the moon is yours; her song and her 
strangeness: 

Singing, spinning, — even as her earth-born 
daughters 

Spin, and sing ; yet laying her strong command- 
ment 

Over the waters. 

{'The echoes died 
Around the hour. 



6o Harvest Moon 

Back flew the doves ^ 

Back to the tower. 

The house lay dark 

In sleep, within. 

The Shadow turned, to spin.) 

Ill 

Is it some new thirst, of a shining peril ? — 
Glorious Death, men sing as they go to greet 

him, 
Far and far ? — But turn you again to your 

shelter ! 

There shall you meet him ; 

Greet him, speak him fair, O hostess and hand- 
maid ! 

Loitering hearthside guest, what pride should 
he kindle? 

Face to face with your waiting smile, — and 
holding 

Flax for the spindle ! 

Not for men's red harvest, weariless Woman ? 
Spoils of empire ? Triumph of shuddering won- 
der?— 



Woman-Vigil 6i 

You, who fought with vultures over your 
treasure, 

Yea, for such plunder ! 

You who shore your hair by the walls of Car- 
thage ! — 

Gave your haloing hair, but to arm the bow- 
men, — 

Smiting white through that long-spent storm 
of arrows. 

Lightnings of omen ! 

(One by one. 

The stars went by ; 

The Shadow barkened 

For a cry. 

The sentry went. 

Whose watch was done. 

. . . The Shadow spun.) 

IV 

Not yet spent, with the night of that endless 

travail ? — 
Sons of men, slaying the sons of mothers! 
Not yet spent ? For all shed life of your giving ? 
Yours, not another's. 



62 Harvest Moo 



N 



Who but you, to spin of your breath with beauty? 
Pluck the light of the stars you fight in their 

courses ? — 
Light, for the morning-gaze of the torn young 

eyelids. 

Trampled of horses ! 

Who but you, — to bear the bloom and the 
burden ; 

Breath and death, and doom of the world, for 
your share ? 

Breath for men, and men that shall die to- 
morrow; — 

Glory of warfare ! 

Breath for men ; bodies for men, — for women ; 
Women to breathe and bloom, and bring forth 

in sorrow 
Men, — men, to nurture and rear as worship; 
Men for to-morrow! 

{"The tide ebbed; 

I'he tide turned ; 

'The wind died ; 

The taper burned. 

The cock crew 

That night was done. 

. . . The Shadow spun.) 



Woman-Vigil 63 

V 

Shadow, Shadow, all the late voices urge thee 
Leave thy vigil now for a noon of slumber. 
Surely mayst thou shut from thy mothering 
eyelids 

Griefs without number 1 

Where the covering darkness lifts from the 

housetops. 
Baring stark those wretched beyond their tell- 

Count not thou their wants and their wounds ! — 
nay, go not 

Forth of thy dwelHng. 

What wilt thou see? — The thousand shames 

and hungers ; 
Old despairs, clinging thy thousand pities ! 
What wilt thou hear? — Save who must faint 

and famish. 

Through all thy cities ? 

The morning-stars 

Were laughing all. 

'The Shadow heard them call. 

The darkness called her by her name. 

The Shadow rose and came. 



64 Harvest Moon 

'There were the early stars astir y 
And one and all they laughed at her. 
O sisterwise they sung to her ; 
Old songs y old words they flung to her. 
She knew again^ again : 
The olden laughter of a star. 
From long ago^ and far and far ! 
But all their music and their mirth 
Fell, as the little words of earth. 
Unto an old refrain : — 
Silver laughter and golden scorn. 
Across the soothsay of gray morn. 
With the smiting of sweet rain. 



VI 

*Spin — spin! Thou who wert made for spin- 
ning ! 

We are but stars that fade. Thou, thou art 
human. 

Thou, the spinner, — yea, from the far be- 
ginning. 

Made to be Woman. 

'Come, come forth, — unto the uttermost bor- 
ders; 



W O M A N-V I G I L 65 

Forth, where the old despairs and shames im- 
plore thee, 

Forth of thy small shut house, — where thy 
dominions 

Widen before thee. 

* Spin, — spin! Lift up thy radiant distaff: 
Spinner thou art, — yea, from the dim beginning, 
Life and the web of all life, and the hosts and 

their glory; — 

Thine was the spinning ! 

*Spin, — spin! while that the Three were spin- 
ning. 

Thou behind them gavest their flax, O Mother; 

Thou, the spinner and spun, and the thread that 
was severed; — 

Thou, not another. 

* Spin, — spin ! Lift up thy heart with thy 

spinning; 
Look and behold it, shading thine eyes- from 

our laughter; — 
Life and the glory of Life and the hosts of the 

living. 

Here and hereafter ! 



66 Harvest Moo 



N 



* Fear not, fail not ! Let not thy lowliness draw 

thee 
Back to thy small shut house, O thou too 

lowly ! 
Here, in thy shrining hands the web of thy 

glory, 

Blinding and holy. 

* Never thine own ; not for thy poor posses- 

sion, — 

Locked in darkness, spent with a dim en- 
deavor ; — 

Life and the web of All Life, and the hosts 
of the living, 

Now and forever. 

* Rise, come with the sun to the chorusing 

vineyards ! 
We are but stars, that fade. And thou art 

human. 
Put on thy beautiful garments, O thou Beloved, 
Thou who art Woman. 

* Rise, come ! Blow out thy tremulous rush- 

light ; 
Come, where the golden tides give cry of warning. 



Woman-Vigil 67 

Over the dark, flooding the world with wonder, 
Flows the first morning ! 

'Rise, come! Known at last of the nations; — 
Even of this dim world thou hadst in thy keep- 
ing.— 
Thou sole sentinel over the dark of the ages ! — 
Love, the unsleeping.' 



HUNTER'S MOON 



BALLAD OF THE BOW-STRING 

HUNTER, — Hunter, with the moon- 
shaped Bow, 
Is it man you wait to slay? Or the 
thirsting doe? ' 

* Woman, — strange one, early at the spring, 
What is here for your great eyes, in a daily 

thing?' 

* Hunter, — ah, I know! 

* Morning-dream awoke me, and winged me on 

my way ; 
Morning-dream laid on me a hidden thing to 

say : 
When I saw thee bend here the great moon- 

shapen bow, 
And twice and thrice thy fingers plucked the 

sinew so, 

For its yea or nay ! 

'Taut it was. — It trembled as a netted bird. 
Wild for flight, and shuddering through feathers 
bright and blurred. 



72 Harvest Moon 

Wild the air fled from it, that spread in echoing 

rings, 
Till it woke a star far-oiF, — it woke my heart 
to wings, 

Hunter, when I heard, 
— With its singing Word ! 

* Then it was, the Sun strode singing from his 
lair. 

And bound my sandals on me, and grasped me 
by my hair. 

And sped me forth to meet thee, lord of them 
that prey, 

— Sped me forth to meet thee, with one word 
to say. 

Shall we be no wiser now, than with stone and 
sling? 

Is this too for blood-shed ? — This, the moon- 
shaped thing ? 

And the god within it? — Wilt thou slay or sing? 

— Wilt thou slay or sing? 

*Thou lookest on the creatures, from a high 

noonday, 
With this wonder in thy hand, for thy heart's 

soothsay : 



Hunter's Moon 73 

And the hour calls out on thee : 

Shall it sing, or slay ? 

Shall it sing, or slay ? ' 

* Woman, wandering woman, — and sudden as 

a fawn. 
What is this -moon-madness, by the wells of" 

dawn ? 
You would bind me with your eyes, that hold 

me listening : 
Trick and bind my heart of wrath that has made 

me king : — 

Shall it slay, or sing ! ' — 

* Hunter, never arrow spake as that singing word. 
Wounded with the joy of it, all my longings 

stirred, — 
Stirred and woke, and woke my heart ; as a 

rescue call 
So might burst a captive's bond, to hear his 

wherewithal ! 
Even so, the seeking ships, outstripped by a 

bird. 
Strain their thews and struggle on, — to sagas 

sudden heard. 

Of their whitherward ! ' 



74 Harvest Moon 

* Woman, weaving mazes of all beyond thy 

ken, 
When the bright wide earth is mine, with all 

its fighting men, 

— Shall be singing then! 
Mad one, come to stay me here, — riddling 

for delay. 
Of my weapon that is mine, for my yea and 

nay. 
Would you rather hear it sing, then, than see 

it slay ? 

— Turn your eyes away.' 

* Hunter, for the thousand years, do as thou 

hast done ! 

Till the red drops flow, flow down, from the 
blinded Sun ; 

Till the withered lights drop down, spent, for 
thee and me. 

And the bright things meet the dark, darkened 
utterly ; 

Drowned beneath the weeping Dark, under- 
neath the sea; 

In the deep on deep of all: — 

. . . Tears, tears, maybe. 



Hunter's Moon 75 

* Sun-mad thou with noonday, and thy red 

pulse in thee. 
Moon-mad I, with anguish of a wonder not to 

be!' 

— * What is that to thee ? ' — 

'Hunter, was it nothing? Once to hold in 

thrall, 
With thy hands, the tortured god, that might 

shew thee all ? — 
For the moment that it sang, — shuddering 

for the light. 
All my soul was cloven through, pierced with 

spears of sight. 

*And I saw and heard it. And I saw us twain. 
Bright with our own wakened eyes, by this 

spring again. 
And the golden echoes, flocking, sea-bird wise, 
Widening to the sea-rim, — fled with golden 

cries ; 
Sounding forth a glory, from the strand on 

strand 
Of thy master music, gathered in thy hand : 
All the tongues of sooth-say, gathered and set 

free. 



76 Harvest Moon 

All the tongues of sooth-say, — flame for thee 

and me ! 
Till the winds crept closer, — the winds, to 

understand, — 
And the tides to hearken : 

And the stars, to see ! ' 



THE HUNTED 

COME out of exile, come, come : the 
harvest-fields grow gaunt. 
The over-lord, he has gone his way. 
Lordlier spoil is his to-day. 
Beasts of burden and beasts of prey, 

"Why will you suiFer want? 

Free of the seas, go free, great-finned : though 

the sea be filled with nets. 
Free of the air; — for the watcher there, after 

strange prey, forgets. 

Choose your path as you will, lord ox ; for 

women follow the plough. 
Take your fill, gray wolf, of the flocks. There 

are no shepherds now. 

They have made them gods out of Iron and 
blood ; and they plough a smouldering 
path. 

Blind and blinded, they follow now, the eyeless 
gods of wrath. 



78 Harvest Moon 

And the shepherding Man who held His heart 
for a light in His own two hands, 

Houseless as you, an outcast too, — bleeding 
and spent He stands; 

Bleeding afresh from open wounds, under the 
sky, alone; 

To warn all souls that yet pass by, of the por- 
tion that Love shall own. 

For the Hunter, bond to his bitter path, goaded 

and yoked, he plods 
Under a scourge of knotted lies, — after the 

iron gods. 



OUTCAST 

DAY again. Is he breathing yet. 
Brother? — He hangs there still. 
I crept close by, where the cross is 
set. 
Under the broken hill ; 
And down from his side, the drops ran wet 
Where the spears had done their will. 

Who would have guessed that One the 
worst? 

Look you, how deep they lie ; 
Bodies of men, — bodies of men. 

Over the field hard by: 
Only that one nailed up alive. 

For a warning; — slow to die. 

Needs must he be a Man to dread. 

But how should he last the day? 
With his heart torn wide, and beating red. 

Since the army marched away. — 
What if we called him now, to know 

The thing he strove to say ? 



8o Harvest Moon 

He was the Man of might, be sure, 
That they chose this way accurst. 

And he breathes : but says no word at all, 
• Since one I heard, the first : — 

Low, but all we could understand ; 
In our own tongue. — * / thirst.^ 



D 



SEA-THIRST 

Down to the Sea^ — the Sea, 
I'hat waits to set men free ! 

OWN to the sea I came. 
The sea was all one flame : 
The sea, the thousand glories and the 
same ! 



From every wave did run ! 
A thousand lights — and one, 
With rainbow-shattered halos of the sun ! 

From every light that sprang, 
A music rang 
Back to the thronging tide, that surged and 
sang. 

The tides with rapturous lips, 
Sang on, — sang on the ships: 
The sun-path dipped, in star-sown far eclipse. 

O veil of farness, donned, 
And shed as any bond. 
For veil on veil of beckoning beyond; — 



82 Harvest Moon 

O Sea, that would outstrip 
Slow dreams of fellowship, 
Beckoning still, beyond the sails that dip! 

Wings, wings, forbid it me, 

My own should prison me 

From that mirage of glimmering prophecy : — 

The dearness dim-divined. 
Of stranger-kind. 
That far horizon calls me on, to find! 

Lest I should wall me in 
With my near kin; — 
Lead on, — lead on, to where the stars begin. 

O sea-path, and sea-fire 
To light the far folk nigher. 
And thirst, forever one with heart's desire 1 

Still sing me to the ken 

Of singing, sailing men; 

The nearing lights and eyes, — again, again! 

With sagas of the foam. 
That sing the good ships home 
From east and west, to port of spire and dome. 



S E A-T HIRST 83 

With harbor-lights, that are 
As word of star to star, — 
The mother-tongue of light, from near to far ! 

All hail ! . . . 
Call of the sparkling trail 
That bids my heart on, as a lifted sail ! 

The sail fulfilled of Breath : — 
Triumphing sail, that saith, 
'And whither now? And whither now, — 
O Death ? ' 

Down to the Sea^ — the Sea^ 
'That waits to set men free! 



HARVEST MOON: 191 6. 

MOON, slow rising, over the trembling 
sea-rim, 
Moon of the lifted tides and their 
folded burden. 
Look, look down. And gather the blinded 
oceans, 

Moon of compassion. 

Come, white Silence, over the one sea pathway: 
Pour with hallowing hands on the surge and 

outcry, 
Silver flame ; and over the famished blackness, 
Petals of moonlight. 

Once again, the formless void of a world-wreck 
Gropes its way through the echoing dark of 

chaos ; 
Tide on tide, to the calling, lost horizons, — 
One in the darkness. 

You that veil the light of the all-beholding, 
Shed white tidings down to the dooms of 
longing, 



Harvest Moon: 1916 85 

Down to the timeless dark ; and the sunken 
treasures, 

One in the darkness. 

Touch, and harken, — under that shrouding 
silver, 

Rise and fall, the heart of the sea and its 
legions. 

All and one ; one with the breath of the death- 
less. 

Rising and falling. 

Touch and waken so, to a far hereafter. 

Ebb and flow, the deep, and the dead in their 

longing : 
Till at last, on the hungering face of the waters, 
There shall be Light. 

Light of Light, give us to see, for their sake. 
Light of Light, grant them eternal peace ; 
And let light -perpetual shine upon them ; 
Light, everlasting. 



OFFERING 

TO you, poor offering of a lowly cup, 
My heart, here lifted up. 
To you, and to the undying starlight 
shed 
From your far-following hearts, O mothers 
of the dead. 
O lovers of the dead, who died alone 

For Life's bright sake ! 
For men unborn and far-off stranger kin; 
Storming the hells of hate, to climb and take 
The morning heights unwon, — 
Where Life shall have its own ; 
Where Love shall have its own ; 
And freemen of all breath shall gather in 
The harvest of the Sun. 




CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



h^S.'*"^ O"" CONGRESS 



018 349 295 



ii'if; 





